


Only a Baby

by jcyriding (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Don't Read This, F/M, if you are uncomfortable with underage noncon, mild drug use, there aren't any graphic descriptions of what happened to her but, this is about hitch's past and the reasons she got into the military police brigade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:13:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jcyriding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marlowe defends Hitch's honor. Shortly after, she tells him the circumstances under which she was accepted into the Military Police.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only a Baby

**Author's Note:**

> this fic isn't super romantic but it's sort of implied that marlowe and hitch have feelings but aren't expressing them. it's not meant to be a romantic/shippy fic anyway, it's meant to be a headcanon that i have about hitch and how she got into the military police and what that means for her. 
> 
> but it got a little shippy. the ship is in the background. it's not the main plotline of the story. 
> 
> i hope to write some more hitch/marlowe though bc they're sweet as sugar, and those fics will be more shippy. 
> 
> so yeah. this is my headcanon fic. yeah.

"D'ya want some?" Hitch asked with a giggle, the pot cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth. Marlowe shot her a disapproving look, as he always did when she lit up on duty, and shook his head sternly. "Hitch, cut the crap! You're on duty right now and that's an illegal substance." He could swear up and down that she did stuff like this just to ruffle his feathers. 

Hitch snorted, quite nearly choking on smoke. "Really, whaddaya gonna do about it?" She puffed out a smoke ring, lips curling into her usual Cheshire Cat grin. "Tattle on me?" She proposed, then shook her head knowingly. No matter how many times Marlowe threatened to tell their superiors, it was never incentive enough to get Hitch to stop. She didn't listen to many people who shared her rank, and when she did, it was with a giggle, as if to show she still wasn't convinced they were being serious, but she would play along. And on top of that, Marlowe never told on her anyway and she knew that full-well. _Damn that clever, beautiful girl._

Marlowe rolled his eyes in response. "Just stop," he sighed, trying not to sound whiny. "I don't want to get in trouble, and if someone comes in and-- don't blow that in my face, Hitch, that's nasty!" His voice rose, adopting a squeakiness to it, and his cheeks started to flush red with embarrassment. 

The girl's eyes widened at the noise, and then she laughed, the smoke she'd been blowing in his face was forcefully expelled from her mouth as she cackled and coughed. "I'm sorry, Marlowe," she hiccuped, even though she probably wasn't sorry in the slightest. “You’re just so hysterical!” The male rolled his eyes again, walking around and muttering to himself as he checked things off the list on his clipboard. "God, you're annoying." 

After Marlowe’s vocal fiasco, there was peace for a while. Hitch continued to smoke her blunt, trailing behind Marlowe as he did his work. It was as endearing as it was annoying; the following, not the smoking. Hitch was so much smaller than him, and she hummed a little as she flitted around his space, her tone a little off-key in her compromised mental state. The male often caught himself glancing at her out of the corner of his eye longer than he should have been, and she never seemed to notice. He was thankful for that; he’d humiliated himself enough for one day. 

This had gone on for what seemed like a long time before voices were heard coming from outside the supply room and Hitch's eyes flew open from their previously half-lidded state. "Marlowe! Cover for me," she hissed, giggling wildly, and before the boy could figure out the reason he would be covering for her, she was ducking into a broom closet. "What? Hitch!" He began to protest before the entrance opened and Nile Dok and a couple others walked in, peering around to see what had been done so far. "Freudenberg!" Nile called, and Marlowe quickly set down the clipboard before delivering a brisk salute. "Sir!" 

"Good work in here," the superior officer stated with a nod. He gave another look around before adding, “Where's your friend?" 

"Sir?"

"You know," the Military Police Chief continued, expression solemn and serious. "The, uh, **whorey** one?" 

Marlowe blinked, his features adopting a look of confusion before he realized: _he's talking about Hitch._ It may have been a bit harsh, calling the girl a whore, but this man was his superior officer, and if Marlowe was being honest, he was a little scared of Nile; after all, the man was the chief of the Military Police brigade. Clearing his throat nervously, he responded, "I think she needed to use the facilities, sir. She mentioned lady problems?" 

Nile's face went a little white, and Marlowe had to hold back a snicker. "Oh," he spluttered. "Uh, carry on, Freudenberg… Good work, good work…" the man muttered, turning to leave. 

_He called Hitch a whore_ , Marlowe's conscience whispered. _Do something about it._ Marlowe obliged. "W-Wait!" The boy called to Nile. He was so close to getting away with all the pot smoke in the room, but if he didn't do this, what kind of honorable man would he be? It was too late to turn back now. "Sir, Hitch Dreyse is not a whore. She is a soldier, and she's in the Military Police for a reason. I think you should have a little more respect for her." As Nile Dok stared at him in surprise, Marlowe added in punctuation, "Sir." 

“A reason?” Nile Dok smirked, and the other officers copied the action. “Her reasons for being here are not what you think, and I don’t think you know the real reason yourself, Freudenberg. But, your point is taken.” He turned to start leaving, the other officers in tow, calling out a sharp, “Dismissed!” to Marlowe as he departed. 

Marlowe let out a sigh, the corners of his lips quirking downward. He didn’t quite understand the exchange he’d just had with Nile Dok, but he dismissed it as he knocked at the broom closet. "Hitch, they're gone," he said. She didn't come out. "Hitch?" He repeated, brow furrowing in concern. Maybe she'd fallen asleep? Pot, he'd been told, could make people very sleepy. But then she emerged from the closet, shoulders slumped, head held low and expression blank. "Hitch?" Marlowe murmured. “You rang?” she replied, a sorry attempt at a smirk playing on her face before she let it all slip away, breaking down into tears and pressing her face into Marlowe's broad chest. 

Awkwardly, the male wrapped muscular arms around her, holding the female as sobs shook through her small frame. "Is— Is something wrong?" He asked sheepishly, knowing what he wanted to ask but not quite sure how else to phrase it. Of course something was wrong, he wasn't stupid, but he didn't want Hitch to feel pressured into saying anything she didn't want to. He began to rub her back gently, making soft, cooing noises to attempt to calm the girl. 

"I am a whore," she sniffed into his shirt, shaking voice muffled. "Nile's right, I am a whore, that's why I'm in the Military Police." 

Marlowe blinked, then looked down at the top of the female's ash-colored head in confusion. "I don't understand," he whispered. "Hitch, you're in the Military Police because you were ranked in the Top Ten. That’s why we’re all in the Military Police.” 

She pulled away, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. Her eyes were bloodshot, from both the pot and the tears, and it brought out the flecks of green in her golden eyes. Such beauty shouldn’t have to go through such hell; Marlowe’s knight-in-shining-armor instincts were going crazy. “I—” she began, a sob cutting through her voice. She shook her head, getting herself under control before starting over. “You’ve heard people say that I fucked my way into the Military Police,” she said softly. The black-haired male nodded, flinching at the harsh language. A flicker of anger flashed across his face. “Yes,” he responded slowly, through gritted teeth. “They’re right, that’s exactly what I did.” She stopped, looking up at Marlowe to assess his expression before continuing. “But no one seems to realize what that connotes…” 

“What does it connote?” Marlowe breathed, but after he’d said it, he realized, with a sinking feeling, what it meant, what Hitch went through. “ **Oh** …” 

“I joined the cadet corps when I was twelve years old, and I graduated at fifteen,” Hitch stated, a few more silken tears slipping down her red cheeks, and she wiped them away hurriedly. “From ages twelve to fifteen, I did what I had to do to… to secure my place in the interior." 

Marlowe’s blood was boiling now, a look of horror and rage contorting his face. It wasn’t Hitch offering herself to her superiors at that age that made him angry; it was the fact that they accepted the offer and taken advantage of a _child_. This was exactly the sort of injustice and abuse of power he wanted to eliminate. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Marlowe demanded softly as he scanned the girl’s face, wiping some more tears away with his thumb. She had a strand of her ash hair stuck to her face, and Marlowe pulled that away, too, She shook her head, pressing her face back into Marlowe's chest as she lost control of her tears again. "Because I just couldn't! I was only a baby, Marlowe, God…” 

The male's anger melted, replaced by a deep, cold sadness. Combing his fingers through her soft hair, Marlowe let silence place a veil between them, the noiselessness only pierced by quiet sobs and the occasional sniffle. Hitch’s high had left her, leaving her stomach in a state of upset as she wept into his chest. Finally, she spoke again. 

“I apologize.” 

Marlowe looked down. As far as he knew, she hadn't done anything wrong. Crying in front of someone was probably humiliating, but it was him she was crying on. He didn't mind; she had to know that, right? "Don’t. There's no reason to.” He took a pause, long fingers still fiddling with locks of the girl’s hair before he continued. “Why do you think you need to apologize?” 

Hitch pulled away, large eyes batting lightly while she stared at his chest. Finally, she looked up, greenish-gold hues meeting steel-gray ones, and asked, “I haven’t disappointed you?” 

It struck Marlowe as odd that that’s what she was worried about; she’d disappointed him several times in the past, and she never cared a lick then. Those times, however, had been business related. This was personal, intimate, far more serious. The boy shook his head, his fringe brushing his forehead as he did so. “Not at all. I couldn’t blame you for this, Hitch. I think if anyone could, they need to do some serious thinking.” He smiled gently at her, brows furrowing. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

The female sniffled and nodded, gaze still locked with his as she flashed her wide, brilliant smile. “I think so. And no, I don’t, thanks,” she breathed, and although her voice was shaking, she felt less tense now, the muscles in her shoulders relaxing as she took a few deep breaths. Hitch wrapped her arms around the boy again in a tight hug, and Marlowe returned the action, his chin on top of her head as he gave her a light squeeze. “I’m glad,” he sighed. They let go, and Marlowe shot her a teasing grin as he said, “Back to work?” 

Hitch groaned, but the sound transitioned into a laugh as she shrugged. “If you say so,” she grouched playfully, sighing as she skipped after Marlowe. She stepped out in front of him, nearly succeeding in tripping the boy, and as he looked at her tiredly, a hint of his typical grumpiness back on his face, she stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to peck his lips. 

Marlowe blinked, surprised, and he felt a blush creeping up his neck. _God, if she notices, she’ll never stop teasing me!_ “Uh, what was that for?” He asked shyly, cocking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. 

Hitch shrugged, giving a shy smile, and Marlowe was consoled by the fact that her cheeks had also taken on a rosy pink hue. “For listening,” she murmured. 

The male made an _o_ shape with his mouth, then shut it, nodding. He leaned down, returning the peck gently, almost awkwardly. When he pulled away, he relished in the look of shy, excited surprise on the girl's blushing face. “Anytime, Hitch.”


End file.
